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“He gives a somewhat darker explanation for that. You’d snubbed him, blah, blah, blah. As you’ve said, he got off on life and death control over people.”
Neither of us followed up on that grim thought.
“How did you know I might be in trouble?”
“When we got to Bugaloo’s, no one knew anything about a charge to Cloke’s credit card. No one was aware of a phoned-in tip. That set fire bells ringing in the back of my mind. Figuring the stunt was a diversion from the real action, I raced to your place.”
“I keep replaying those attacks in my head. How did he get into my condo? The first time it was my stupidity. But after that, I kept everything locked unless I was present.”
“He hacked your hotel key.”
My brows floated up.
“You know I’m no whiz with this computer stuff. But our tech guy explained it to me. The card has an RFID chip that stores data about your room number and other info that allows you access to certain areas of the building—elevators, pool, etc. When you swipe your room key over your door’s lock, the computer recognizes the room number and lets you in. It also unlocks any latches inside.”
“Like those on the windows and sliding glass panels.”
I was about to comment when the bar door opened. I glanced over my shoulder. Backlit by the apricot rectangle of sunset slashing into the gloom was the form of another man built like a lanky Lego creation.
I turned back quickly. My smile must have been obvious.
“That your cop friend?” Monck asked.
I nodded. “He’s unaware that I know he’s coming. The visit is supposed to be a surprise.”
“Who clued you?”
“My sister. Hair roots and nails and clean undies and all.”
Monck gave me an odd look but said nothing.
“How does he know where you are right now?”
“He called earlier pretending to still be in Montreal.”
“So he’s up to speed on what’s happened down here? Except for the sneak move by your sis?”
“And the fact that his was one of the targeted aircraft. He thinks his plane was diverted to Miami due to mechanical issues. He had to overnight there, and rebook today on an afternoon flight.”
A brief scan—cop eyes—then Ryan made his way toward us.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turned. Did the whole wide-eyedOmygodwhatareyoudoinghere?thing.
Ryan wrapped me in his arms, pulled me close, held me to hischest a smidge longer than appropriate. Then he stepped back and extended a hand toward Monck.
“Andrew Ryan.”
“Delroy Monck. Let me buy you a beer, sir.”
Giving a thumbs-up, Ryan slid onto the stool beside me.
Seconds later, two more Turks Heads appeared.
“I understand the doc’s looped you in on the serials and the cyber threats we’ve been chasing?”
“She has. And Detective Musgrove, of course. That one sucks bigtime.”
Monck nodded tightly. “You two plan to sneak in a vacation?”
